


Spark (draft)

by GrimmKat



Category: Avengers Assemble (Cartoon), Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, Gen, Kid Fic, Kid Tony Stark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-20
Updated: 2018-06-20
Packaged: 2019-05-25 19:28:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14984000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GrimmKat/pseuds/GrimmKat
Summary: 'I can't believe you de-aged Tony Stark!'The unedited first draft of Spark. Figured i'd post it in case anybody wants to read.





	Spark (draft)

“I think we made a terrible mistake.” Bruce admitted, crossing his arms over his chest.

“You don’t say.” Clint drawled, smirk playing on his lips. “Although, I for one, find it hilarious. What is he, six?”

“I’m eight!” The small boy huffed, affronted. He mirrored Bruce’s protective posture and tucked himself further into the corner. “Are you kidnappers? Because my dad doesn’t pay ransom.” Fierce brown eyes shone bright with fear as they flickered back and forth between the two men. “Just let me go and I promise I won’t tell the authorities.”

Clint just shrugged, amused. “Dibs on not telling Cap what happened.”

“I already called him.” Bruce fretted. “I called everyone, you just happened to be the closest.”

“Lucky me.” Clint crooned. He turned towards the kid, eyebrows raised. He should probably offer some words of comfort, considering that, no, they hadn’t abducted the boy. “We’re not kidnappers, kid.”

The boy’s lips pursed, clearly in disbelief. “Prove it then. Let me call my dad.”

“Uh.” Clint paused, shooting a panicked look at the doctor. Bruce ran a shaky hand through his hair and shrugged. “No can do.” The archer finished.

“Why not?!” The kid’s voice was taking on an edge of hysteria. “Where am I?” His small fist was wrapped around an old, rusty screwdriver, and he brandished it like a knife. His eyes darted all around, eying the exits and probably calculating his chances of escape. Which was no good.

“Tony, right?” Clint asked, crouching down to the boy’s level. He left a good five feet of space between them because he knew that he cut an imposing figure- decked out in his SHIELD gear, bow and quiver resting on his back. He held up his hands and tried to appear non-threatening.

Slowly, the miniaturized billionaire allowed himself to nod.

“I’m Clint. You hurt?” Clint asked, curiously. He didn’t think so, but you never know when one had previously been playing with strange alien artifacts.

A head shake, then a pause, then a hesitant nod. “My chest feels funny. Did you do something?” The boy’s fingers prodded at his sternum, stroking over the arc-reactor, and the discovery of the foreign object caused his face to screw up with worry. He grasped at the device, fingers turning white as he strained to rip it out.

“Don’t touch that!” Clint snapped, leaning forward to catch Tony’s hand, and the child flinched backwards, consequently slamming his head into the wall. Tears sprung to his eyes but he blinked them back, all the while glaring daggers at the archer. Shit.

“Sorry, I mean, that thing is keeping you alive somehow, and I know fuckall about how to fix it if you mess with it, so please, just leave it alone.” But it was too late, the damage had been done, and Clint could tell that he had already shattered what little trust had begun to form between them.

“I want to go home.” This time it was a plea. There was no fight to it.

Clint sighed and stood up from his crouch, knees protesting vehemently. “You will, buddy.”

That’s, of course, when the boy decided to strike.

The second Clint looked away, the kid popped up and flung himself at the man, jamming the screwdriver into his bicep with considerable force. “Fuckingshitow!” Clint yelped, dancing out of the way. The kid then took his chance to shove past his legs, racing for the entrance to the workshop. “Ow!” Clint snarled again, mostly for his own benefit, because how in hell did a CHILD get the best of him. If this was an indicator of future performance he should just cut his losses now and quit while he was ahead.

Starled, Bruce reached out and tried to grab the kid’s arm before he could make it to the door, but the boy just ducked away and altered his trajectory, throwing himself under a workbench. He emerged a few seconds later, clutching a small tangle of wires. “Let me go or I’ll blow you up!” He shouted, chest heaving.

“He’s gotta be bluffing, right?” Clint muttered as he strode over to Bruce, rubbing his sore arm. The screwdriver had gone in deep enough to cause a fair amount of bleeding and Clint swore that he’d get revenge. Like exchanging Tony’s shampoo for pink hair dye. He had always wanted to do that to someone.

“Most likely.” Bruce replied, cocking his head to get a better look at the wires. “They aren’t active; he’d need a conductor, something to set them off, and he doesn’t have one. But, he’s still Tony Stark, even if he’s miniaturized, and I wouldn’t put it past him.”

“I never thought I’d say this, but I miss Tony Stark. Normal, grown up Tony Stark.” Clint scowled. “At least he doesn’t threaten to blow up his teammates. Well, there was that one time, but let’s face it, Thor kinda deserved it.”

“Clint.” Bruce shot him a look. The one that said now’s not really the time for that.

“Right.” Raising his voice a bit so that the boy could hear him, Clint added, “Look kid, Tony, we can’t let you leave. For reasons we’ll explain later. And also, didn’t your parents teach you any manners, like, I don’t know, maybe don’t go around stabbing people! And threatening to blow them up? Because I feel that's etiquette 101.”

“Not helping.” Bruce breathed.

“Just drop the wires.”

“No.” The kid hissed, screwing up his face. “You’re lying to me!” He took a step forward, waving the wires menacingly, miscalculated and tripped on the hem of his too-big shirt. The wires went flying and Clint hurriedly scooped them up. Just in case.

The boy drew himself into a sitting position and looped his arms over his knees, wiping away another set of unshed tears. There was a pretty nasty bruise already starting to form on his forehead and Clint couldn’t help feeling a bit sorry for the kid. Even if he did stab him with a screwdriver.

“Heh, you’re pretty clumsy.” Clint chuckled. “I didn’t expect that, what with the whole stabbing debacle.”

“You’re not going to get over that, are you?” Bruce sighed.

“Nope.” Clint smirked, popping the ‘p’.

The kid glared.

And of course, that’s just when Cap decided to drop by.

-

“...Captain America…”

The voice was barely a whisper, but every single person in the room heard it. Including Steve.

He glanced down at the little boy on the floor, whom he had previously overlooked in favor of searching the room for the ‘Tony emergency’.

“You’re Captain America.” The boy repeated, mouth hanging agape with awe.

“Yes?” Steve intoned, brow furrowed as he took in the details of the child. Brown messy hair. Big brown eyes. Pale blue light of the arc reactor visible under the oversized shirt and “Oh... Tony?”

“Ding ding, he gets it!” Clint cackled, shooting Steve a thumbs up. “Give the man a prize!”

“What happened?!” Steve exclaimed, throwing a slightly alarmed look at Bruce. “Is this the emergency?”

“Yes. We were, that is, Tony was, messing around with some of the artifacts from the Bardi invasion. He seemed particularly interested in what we had correctly assumed was a time-altering device. When Tony cracked it open, it de-aged him.”

“Oh.” Steve repeated, because de-aging was apparently a thing that happened now. He didn’t know why he was so surprised. He also kind of wanted Tony to go ahead and be an adult again just so he could berate him about messing with things he shouldn't be.

“Liar!” Tony cut in, scooching closer to Steve. “They kidnapped me.”

“Kidnapped??” Steve mouthed to Clint, incredulous. Why would they make Tony think he’d been kidnapped? He looked down at the boy who had butt-scooted his way over to Steve’s feet, all the while glowering at Clint and Bruce.

“But it’s okay, I attacked him with my screwdriver and got away.” The boy said this part with pride, sticking his tongue out at the archer. “Are you here to take me home? How did my dad find you? Did he tell you to save me?”

Steve’s mind whirled, trying to keep up with Tony’s line of questioning. The kid spoke even faster than adult-Tony. “Wait, attacked? You attacked Clint?”

“YES, as a matter of fact he did.” The man spoke up, rubbing at his arm. “He STABBED me with a screwdriver.”

Bruce rolled his eyes. “You should probably get over that. He was scared.”

“I was not!” The boy insisted, reaching up to clutch at the pants of Steve’s uniform. Steve resisted the urge to reach down and pull the kid into a hug, because, yes, this was weird, but Steve liked children and child-Tony was kind of adorable. He did the next best thing and crouched down next to the kid, tugging off his cowl.

“Hi there, Tony. My name’s Steve. I promise you that Clint and Bruce didn’t kidnap you. It was a misunderstanding. They were confused because one minute you were an adult like them and then you became a child. They were just worried about you.” He didn’t know if the boy would believe him, but he seemed to trust Captain America, so Steve had hope.

The kid stared hard into Steve’s eyes, as if trying to discern falsity. “Prove it.” He whispered. “Prove you’re really Captain America.”

“Kid’s real big on proof.” Clint muttered and Steve frowned, trying to think of something he could say.

“Your dad is Howard Stark, right? He and I worked together in the war. He and Peggy Carter helped me find my best friend, Bucky.” Steve recounted. Tony bit his lip and glanced down at the arc reactor which, despite the de-aging, was still nestled firmly in the middle of his chest.

“Okay. Okay, I believe you.” A pause. “I won’t say sorry to that guy though.” He said, jutting his chin out at Clint. “He was rude.”

“Is that so?” Steve replied, trying not to smile. Clint was one of Tony’s favorites (mainly because they were both childish, liked blowing things up, and were generally irresponsible human beings) and it was funny to see child-Tony so opposed to the man.

“Mm. Am I really in the future?” Now that the fear was gone, the kid seemed pretty excited about the prospect. Steve knew exactly how he felt, having gone through the exact same ordeal.

“Yes.” He nodded, because there was no point in trying to deny it. Tony was too smart to accept another lie.

“And you’re Captain America.”

“Yes.”

“Does adult me know you?” This question was asked with a sense of delight and Steve nodded.

“Yes, adult you and me are very good friends.” Well, the very good part of that statement might be a bit of an exaggeration, but it was worth it for the wide grin he got in return.

“Cool! Can I see your shield? Is it heavy? Did you know that it’s made of vibranium and that my dad helped make it?”

“Yes, not for me and yes.” Steve smiled, reaching back to unhook the shield from its straps. Tony’s mouth formed the shape of an ‘o’ and he reached for it, greedily. Steve placed it on Tony’s lap, watching as the boy ran his hands over the shiny painted star.

“It’s really you..”

“It’s really me.” He agreed. Letting Tony explore the shield a little more, Steve stood up and made his way over to Bruce and Clint. “As cute as he is, do we have a plan to reverse this? Iron Man and I are scheduled to go to Osaka for a press conference in three days.”

“Cute?!” Clint protested at the same time as Bruce went, “I’m already working on it.”

Steve nodded, because if anyone could figure this out, it was Bruce. “I’m sure you and Jarvis have it handled.”

A look of mild panic flittered over the doctor's face. “Well, I’m afraid I’m flying solo. Tony was in the middle of a debug and Jarvis hasn’t been rebooted yet.”

Fantastic, thought Steve. “There’s no way to, uh, get him back?”

“I don’t have the codes.”

“Alright, well, keep me posted.”

“Will do, Captain.” The scientist smiled, turning back to his laptop.

“Hey, Sir…” Tony called from his place on the floor, looking up at Steve with those giant eyes.

“Yes, Tony?” And also, “Call me Steve.” Because Tony calling him ‘Sir’, even as a child, seemed wrong.

He nodded, slipping out from under the shield. “I’m hungry.” To reinforce his statement, the boy’s stomach chose that particular moment to growl noisily.

Clint nodded, slapping Steve on the shoulder. “Well, that’s my cue. Have fun on babysitting duty.” He strode out of the workshop, whistling as he went. Bruce was already absorbed in his work, so yep, that left Steve. Not that he really minded. Kid-Tony seemed much more amiable and polite than adult-Tony. They were getting better, and they argued less, but there was still so much tension and Steve feared they would never work through it all.

-

As they made their way towards the penthouse, elevator traveling smoothly upwards, Tony turned to Steve curious. He was still wearing the oversized band t-shirt he was shrunk in, and Steve found it slightly amusing.

“Do I live here?” The boy wondered, face pressed against the glass window. He watched, fascinated, as the view New York slowly shrunk.

“Something like that.” Steve agreed. “You actually own this building; It’s called Stark Tower.”

The boy’s mouth dropped open. “No way? Seriously?”

“Is that surprising?” Steve asked, glancing down at the kid. Tony had always been rich, even as a child.

The kid shrugged, collar of the shirt slipping down his left shoulder. “I don’t know. I thought I would still live in my house.”

Steve shook his head. “No, you live here, with me.” And whoops, that last part just kind of slipped out.

“I live with you??” The kid breathed, eyes going comically wide. “No offense, but I think I’m dreaming.”

Steve chucked, playfully ruffling the kid’s hair. “Yes, I live here, but so do Clint and Bruce and some other people you haven't met yet.”

“Oh.” The boy wrinkled his nose at the mention of Clint. “Why do we live together?”

“We work together.” Steve explained, not yet sure if he should take it further. He didn’t know if he should tell Tony about Iron Man, if that would be too much for the kid.

“You fight bad guys, and I make weapons?” Tony said, and it wasn’t really a question. Steve felt something twinging in his chest at the thought of this little boy making weapons, about knowing that’s what he would grow up to do.

“Sort of.” Steve said, because that was easier than explaining about Iron Man. “This is your floor.” The elevator doors slid open and Steve led Tony through the penthouse and into the kitchen.

The fridge revealed a box of half-eaten pizza and Steve grabbed that along with some vegetables. Because he was nothing if not a promoter of good health. He heated up the pizza in the microwave (which he could use just fine, no matter what Clint and Tony said) and put the food on a plate to give to the boy. Tony gave Steve a grateful smile and dug into the meal, happily.

Steve chose to snack on an apple and was on his fourth slice when his cellphone rang, obnoxious trill cutting through the pleasant quiet.

He glanced at the caller ID and was surprised to see Pepper Potts’ name. He and Pepper hardly ever talked face to face, much less called each other. He knew it had something to do with Tony and was hesitant to pick up. But, Pepper was a scary woman, definitely someone he didn't want to anger, so pick up he did.

“Steven Rogers.” He said.

“Hi, Captain Rogers, it’s Pepper Potts, Tony’s CEO? I called because I heard there was an accident involving Tony. I just want to know if he's alright.” The woman’s words tumbled out in a rush, pleasant, yet full of repressed anxiety.

“Um.” Steve went, glancing over at the boy who seemed oblivious to Steve’s inner turmoil. What should he tell Pepper? Was he even allowed to let her in on what happened?

“Just please tell me he's alright.”

“He's fine.” Steve not-quite-lied. Because Tony was fine, just 30 years younger than he should be. But fine, really.

“Oh thank God.” And there was something there- something about the way Pepper sighed in such obvious relief- that made Steve feel incredibly guilty.

“It's just that he wasn't answering his phone, so I called Bruce Banner who told me there was some kind of accident, so you can see why I was worried.”

“I understand, ma’am.” Steve agreed. “He's busy right now but I'll make sure to have him call you when he can.” That was all he could promise. He wasn't sure if it was good enough.

“Okay.” Pepper said. “Alright.” And then she hung up.

Steve sighed, and ran a hand through his hair, sweaty palms sticking to the fine stands.

“Were you talking about me?” Tony asked suddenly, nibbling on a carrot. And, yeah, apparently he was just as perceptive as a child.

“Yes.” Steve admitted. “To a friend of grown up you.”

“Oh.”

“She just wanted to know if you were alright.” Steve tried to explained.

“Why didn't you tell her I got shrunk?” The boy inquired, little crease forming between his brows. 

“I-” Steve started, wondering what he should say. “I’m not sure I’m allowed to tell her.” He settled on, hoping the kid would understand, without Steve having to go into SHIELD and clearance levels and Avengers and unauthorized study of alien artifacts. Tony just shrugged, seemingly content to drop the issue.

They finished up eating and Steve collected the plates, throwing them in the sink to clean later. The boy had hopped off of his stool and was curiously exploring the penthouse, gaping up at the huge flat screen TV that Tony had installed in the living room.

“It’s like a movie screen!” The kid crooned, getting up real close and pressing his nose against it. “Is it mine?”

“Yes.” Steve chuckled, surreptitiously pulling out his phone to snap a picture. He sent it to Clint who responded with the smiley poop emoji. Because it was Clint.

“Can we watch something??”

“Uh,” Steve mused, pursing his lips. “I guess.” He glanced back down when it chimed again- another text from the archer.

Are you really letting him run around in a night-shirt? Because I know for a fact he isn’t wearing pants.

Steve mentally smacked himself. Oh. Well done, Rogers. “Never mind, Clint says we have to find you some clothes.”

“I’m fine.” The kid replied, immediately. “Do you have Star Trek? It’s my favorite show.”

“But you’re not wearing pants.” Steve said a bit helplessly. “And I’m still in my uniform. I think we both need to change.”

Tony frowned, crossing his arms over his chest. “But I like the uniform. And I’m guessing that you don’t have any clothes here that will fit me.”

“You are pretty small.” Steve agreed.

“HEY! I am normal sized! You’re just overly large. Like a beefcake.”

“Excuse me?” Steve trilled, raising an eyebrow. “I’m a beefcake?” That was such a far cry from an hour ago when the kid had called him ‘sir’, and the soldier’s mind was left spinning.

At Steve’s shocked expression, Tony burst out laughing, eyes shining. “Yes.” He grinned. “Can we watch Star Trek now?”

“No.” Steve frowned. Adult-Tony had called him a beefcake, too. “Clothes first.”

“Fine.” The kid acquiesced, with a pout. “But after we’re watching the show.”

Steve didn’t argue.

-

They managed to find a smallish sweatshirt and pair of gym shorts to fit Tony. The sweatshirt was probably Pepper’s (left over from when she and Tony used to date) and the shorts were courtesy of Coulson’s nephew, who spent the weekend in the tower a few months back.

Steve donned his civvies and joined Tony in the living room, pausing in the doorway when he realized the boy wasn't alone. Natasha Romanoff sat perched on the leather couch, listening intently to something the kid was saying. Steve made his presence known with a quiet clearing of his throat and the conversation cut off abruptly.

“Hello Steve.” Natasha greeted, giving the soldier a wave. He was glad to see her, she had been in Lebanon for a couple of weeks, completing a special mission for SHIELD, and he missed her while she was gone. He prefered his teammates safe at home where he could keep an eye on them.

“Hey, Nat, welcome back.”

“Thanks.” She said, and that was as far as they got before Tony cut in with a grin.

“Steve, Natasha told me she’s a SPY!” He wiggled with excitement, holding up a wrist cuff. “And this thing electrocutes people!”

“You’re letting him play with your weapons?” Steve asked, with a raised eyebrow.

Natasha just shrugged, unconcerned. “He made it, so I don’t see why he can’t look at it. As long as he doesn’t press-”

Too late.

Before Steve or Natasha could catch his wrist, the kid activated the widow’s bite, bright arc of electricity hitting the TV with a crack. Little sparks jumped out of the smoking hole, smell of burnt plasma filling the room.

Natasha quickly confiscated the device from the stunned kid, who sat frozen, staring at the melted screen.

“I-I-I… I’m sorry!” He stuttered, body starting to tremble. “I didn’t mean too, my finger slipped, please don’t be mad!” Terrified brown eyes turned to Steve, glassy with moisture. “I didn’t mean to.” He curled in on himself with a bowed head and hands clutching the fabric of his shorts. “Please don’t…”

“Tony…” Steve breathed, stunned at the kid’s sudden change in behavior.

“Tony, it’s okay.” Natasha took the lead, lifting the kid’s chin up with a finger, forcing him to look at her. “It’s okay. I’m not mad.” She soothed, smiling softly. “It was an accident, I understand you didn’t mean it.”

“But I broke it!” The boy all but sobbed and Steve’s heart twisted painfully. Tony’s distress was almost unbearable to the soldier and he wanted to do something, anything, but he was immobile.

Instead, Natasha talked the kid through calming down, rubbing gentle little circles on his back. Tony sniffled and sunk into her touch, wiping at his eyes. “I’m sorry.” He mumbled again.

“It’s alright, Solnyshko, nobody was hurt.” Natasha hushed, and yeah, thank god for that. As upset as the boy was now, he probably would have been inconsolable if he’d actually injured someone.

Thanks. Steve mouthed to the Natasha, and she nodded eyes soft. Then, finally, to Tony, “Hey, son, there are plenty of T.V’s in the tower. Why don’t we go find another one and watch the show you wanted?”

The kid turned to him with a grateful look on his pale face. “Yes, please.” Steve held out his hand, palm facing up, and was pleasantly surprised when the kid crawled to the edge of the couch to grab it. “Thanks for not being mad.”

“It was an accident.” Steve reiterated, because that was what it seemed Tony needed to hear. “I’m definitely not mad.”

“You sure?” Big brown eyes blinked up at him, and he was struck by how different they were from adult-Tony’s. Those eyes were always closed off to Steve, devoid of any emotion besides fierce ambition. The kid’s were wide with uncertainty, mixed with tentative trust and blatant adoration.

“I’m sure.”

-

Even though Steve hadn't seen this episode of Star Trek yet, he spent most of the time watching Tony instead of the TV.

The kid was definitely enthralled, (“Steve, I'm watching a show from the FUTURE!”)

but the soldier couldn't get the boy’s meltdown out of his mind. It had looked like he was having an anxiety attack and Steve, having grown up in the forties, definitely recognized the signs of a kid expecting to be hit. Luckily that form of parental punishment did not seem to be in use anymore; just another way the world had grown up since he was frozen in the ice.

Lost in his thoughts, Steve startled when he realized that the kid had slumped against his side, eyelids fluttering shut. Steve stayed very still and in less than a minute Tony’s breathing evened out enough to indicate that he had fallen asleep.

A quick look at his watch confirmed that it was still early in the evening, but Tony had been through a lot that day, and Steve wasn't at all surprised that the boy was tired.

And to be honest, so was he. Steve glanced down at the slumbering boy and decided that a quick nap wouldn't hurt.

He awoke to a quiet whisper.

“Steve.”

“Hmmm?” Blinking open his eyes, the super soldier noticed that the boy was now curled in his lap, hand clutching the fabric of Steve’s shirt. “What is it, Tony?”

The boy didn't respond and Steve thought maybe he’d fallen back to sleep. He ran a hand through Tony’s soft curls and the boy let out a little sigh. So, not asleep then.

“Tony?” He repeated, quietly.

And then the boy spoke, voice timid and barely loud enough to make out, even with Steve's enhanced hearing. “Are my parents dead?”

And, well, okay, that wasn't the question Steve had been anticipating. His fist tightened in Tony’s hair, and the boy pulled out of his grasp, pushing himself away from Steve.

The windows along the wall revealed dark, night sky, and the only light in the room came from Tony’s arc reactor, casting the whole space in an otherworldly blue glow.

“They’re dead aren't they?” The boy swallowed, eyes luminous.

“What makes you say that?” Steve asked, wholly unprepared for this conversation.

“I just have a feeling.” The boy replied, playing with the hem of his sweatshirt. “I'm not upset, I just want to know.”

And Steve couldn't lie to Tony, he'd never been able to, not even when they first met and all he had wanted to do was yell at the insufferable man who seemed to want nothing more than put them all in danger with his arrogance and unpredictability.

“Yes, they’re dead. I'm so sorry.”

The boy let out a deep breath and nodded. “I-okay. That's okay.” But it wasn’t, clearly. Steve felt deeply for the kid, but there was nothing he could do, nothing to make the hurt better.

“Does grown-up me have a bedroom here?” Tony muttered, swiping at his wet eyes.

“You want to go to sleep?” Steve inquired and the boy nodded, shoulders slumping. “Okay. That’s probably a good idea.” Steve’s patience was pulled taut like a stretched rope and, even though he liked the kid, the soldier needed some time to think and, to steal one of Tony’s monikers, ‘chill out’.

He led the way to Tony’s room, kid trailing in Steve’s wake.

“Do you need anything?” He asked, when they reached their destination. “Water, blankets, food?” Tony just shook his head, curls swaying with the motion.

“No, I’m fine. Thanks, Steve.” The boy gave the soldier one last hesitant smile and shut the door in his face. Well.

Feeling strangely abandoned, Steve stood outside Tony’s door and ran a hand through his hair. He felt like he had just gotten off a roller coaster ride, the boy’s emotions running as wild as they had. Despite his nap, Steve felt completely drained.

He also needed to call Bruce, and get an update. “Hey Jarvis can you-” He started then stopped, remembering that Tony’s all-seeing, all-knowing, electronic butler wasn’t working. Sighing (and feeling slightly foolish for talking to empty air), Steve made his way over to the elevator, punching in the correct sequence that would take him to Tony’s workshop. Bruce would be there unless he had moved the device to his own lab.

He found the man in the workshop, hunched over a cylindrical piece of metal etched with strange markings that Steve didn’t recognize.

“Is that the time device?” He inquired, causing the scientist to startle.

“Jesus, Steve. How can you be so big and so quiet at the same time?”

“Sorry.” The soldier apologized, rubbing at the back of his neck. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Of course not.” Bruce agreed, adjusting his glasses. “And, yes. They found this on the Bardi warship. It’s what de-aged Tony.” The man screwed up his face, glaring at the object. “And I have no idea how it works.”

Steve frowned, recalling the fight with the Bardian aliens. It had been a messy battle- not as bad as the Chitauri invasion, but bad enough. They had almost lost Bruce (before his transformation into the Hulk) and all of them gained some level of personal injury. Steve’s healed quickly due to the serum but Bruce was still sporting a black eye and even Thor ended up nursing a sprained wrist. After the Avengers chased the ugly aliens back through the portal they had come through, SHIELD swept the remaining warships, taking anything of importance. Steve wasn’t particularly surprised that Tony got his hands on some of those items. That was two days ago.

“So you can’t figure it out?”

“Not yet.” Bruce gave him a strained smile. “How’s Tony?”

“Um.” Steve went, unsure of what to say. “He’s ...okay. He asked me if his parents were dead.”

“What did you tell him?” Bruce narrowed his eyes, attention slipping away from the Bardi time device and instead focusing entirely on Steve.

“I told him the truth.” Steve admitted. “Was that wrong?”

Bruce shook his head but he looked troubled. “How did he take it?”

“Better than expected, but not... well.” Steve tried to explain, image of Tony’s crestfallen face burned into his memory. It was something he would never un-see.

Bruce worried at his bottom lip, opened his mouth, then shut it again. He seemed to be debating with himself. “Tony,” The man started, fiddling with a pencil, “Tony had a difficult relationship with his parents. I don’t know the whole story but from what I’ve heard, his father wasn’t exactly the best.”

“Howard?” Steve cut it, surprised. “Howard was a good man.”

“Yes.” Bruce agreed, “But not a good father. Tony said he was always too busy with his inventions and he didn’t have any time left over for his son.”

“That doesn’t make sense.” Steve said, because he felt it was his duty to defend Howard. But, if he thought about it, Bruce’s sentiment rang true. Just because Howard was one of the smartest men Steve had ever met, didn’t mean that he would be a good father. “Are you saying that Tony shouldn’t have been upset? Just because you don’t have a great relationship with your parents, doesn’t mean you won’t be upset when they pass.”

“I know that.” Bruce stressed. “That’s not what I’m saying. Tony’s probably feeling very conflicted, and I thought telling you about his parents would help you understand.”

Steve cut back another harsh remark, letting Bruce’s words sink in. Tony had seemed conflicted, upset but not upset at the same time. Was he sad because his parents died or was he sad because that's what he was supposed to feel? Steve had no idea.

“I'm sorry.” Bruce cut in. “I think I just confused you more.”

“It’s fine.” Steve murmured, silently agreeing with the man. Everytime he talked to Bruce his head spun. He gestured towards the device. “I’ll leave you to your work, Dr. Banner.”

-

Steve awoke to the blaring of his emergency alarm. Startled, he thrust out an arm, attempting to block what his sleep-muddled mind had incorrectly assumed was an intruder. His jab hit empty air, the force behind it throwing him into a sitting position. Breathing heavily, he scanned the room, gaze finally coming to rest on his vibrating cell phone. It alternatively flashed red and blue just like a police light and Steve, lowering his fist, suddenly felt very foolish. He’d been out of the ice for over two years now. When were loud noises and the like finally going to stop bothering him?

He supposed it didn’t help that he had been sleeping in an unfamiliar room, opting to stay on Tony’s floor instead. He had wanted to be close to the boy in case anything were to happen. Looks like he was worried about the wrong thing.

Steve reached for the phone, swiping right to access the details of the alarm. Fury had issued it at 0600 hours, emergency code 844. Surprised, Steve read over the information one more time. 844. That was the code Fury used during the Bardi invasion. Were they back?

Quickly, he pressed thumbs up button next to the little cartoon shield that represented Captain America’s status (Tony had designed the emergency app and while it was very useful, Steve couldn’t help rolling his eyes every time he used it), tucked the phone into the pocket of his sweatpants, and hopped out of bed to go grab his suit and shield.

“What’s going on?” Tony had beat him to the living room, glancing up at Steve in a state of obvious distress. Clutched in his hands was another cellphone in the same emergency condition as Steve’s. “What’s all this noise?”

“Um,” Steve went, stepping around his still miniaturized teammate. “It’s nothing. Just stay here okay?” But Tony wasn’t the type of person to follow orders he didn’t understand and the boy kept close to Steve’s heels, following him into the elevator. The doors shut before Steve had a chance to push him out.

“What’s the alarm for?” Tony pestered, glaring up at Steve. “Is it about bad guys? Are you going to go fight? Why was this thing in my room? Is it mine?”

“Jesus.” Steve groaned, rubbing at his temple. “Yes, I have to go fight. Just leave the phone alone.”

“It’s a phone?” The kid puzzled, turning the still blaring thing around in his hands. “But where’s the cord?”

Steve sighed and plucked the phone out of Tony’s hands, clicking on the thumbs down button next to the cartoon set of armour. No, Tony would not be joining this fight. Finally, the phone quieted down and Steve handed it back to the kid. “There’s no cord. It’s pretty neat.”

“Oh.”

Then the elevator doors opened and Steve turned around, trapping the kid in with his body mass.

“I don’t suppose you’ll go back to your room?” He said, knowing that the kid would not answer in the affirmative. Tony did not disappoint, shaking his head vehemently.

“Nope. I want to see you fight.”

Steve cursed inwardly. He didn’t have enough time to stand here and argue with the kid, but it wasn’t like he could take him with either. Fury was still in the dark about the de-aging and Steve wanted to keep it that way. He respected the Director but he didn’t think that he trusted him with a child. Especially not with Tony. Fury would try to turn the kid into a test subject or something and Steve wouldn’t stand for that. So, that meant the Director could not find out about what transpired. Tony would remain a secret until they fixed the problem.

Steve glanced wistfully at the ceiling. He wished JARVIS were working. The sentient robot always knew what to say regarding Tony. He’d given Steve a lot advice on how to talk to the man, especially in the beginning when everything Steve said seemed to aggravate him. JARVIS helped them to become friends and Steve was fumbling without the AI’s guidance.

“How about a compromise?” Steve tried, raising an eyebrow. “You stay here, and I’ll let you watch me spar in the gym tonight.”

The kid frowned. “No. I want to come with you.”

“Tony-”

“I’ll take it from here.” A friendly voice spoke up and Steve turned around, coming face to face with Pepper Potts.

-

“You told her?” Steve inquired, chucking his shield at the skull of an ugly Bardian alien.

“Yes.” Natasha agreed, flipping over Steve’s back to kick at an alien aiming for his spine. “She deserved to know.”

Letting his elbow connect with a mottled grey face, Steve shook his head. “She doesn’t have the clearance.”

“Well, Fury does, but that doesn’t mean you’ve told him.”

“Stop bickering, kill more.” Clint went, sailing past their heads on the end of a grappling hook.

“Can’t argue with that.” Natasha smirked and then she was gone, leaving Steve alone with about twenty alien hostiles. He got to work.

-

All in all, they ended up with seven hostages and four more that were unconscious and possibly never waking up.

“The question is…” Fury was saying but Steve found it hard to pay attention to the debrief. His head was throbbing (some Bardian managed to tase him right in the forehead) and his mind kept slipping away. He hoped that he wasn’t concussed.

“The question is,” Fury repeated, narrowing his eye at Steve, “Why did they come back? We beat them, and they came back for more. Why is that, and, because of it, should we expect further attacks?”

Steve knew the question was directed at him and he chewed at his bottom lip, debating what to say. He settled on good, old-fashioned avoidance. “I don’t know, Sir.”

The Director gave him a nice long, hard look and then turned his attention elsewhere. Steve let out a tiny sigh of relief and looked up across the table to meet Bruce’s eye. The haggard looking doctor gave Steve the tiniest of nods. So, they were thinking the same thing.

Yes, the Bardian’s came back for a reason. They came for the time device.

“Next question,” Fury went on to say, “Where the hell are Iron Man and Thor?”

“Thor’s on Asgard briefing with his father about the last attack.” Steve supplied, tapping his fingers on the edge of his shield. “And Tony...”

“Has a meeting in Vancouver for SI.” Clint cut in, apparently agreeing with Steve’s desire to keep Tony’s condition a secret. However, the lie was pretty risky. Fury was the head of the world's biggest underground spy agency. If he deigned to check, the man could easily discern Tony’s real whereabouts. But, Steve reminded himself, Clint knew Fury better than any of the Avengers. He had to trust him.

“Well, tell them to hurry their asses back home. I didn’t issue any vacation days. We’ve got some real problems to take care of.”

On that slightly ominous note, Fury let them go. Steve took a quick shower at S.H.I.E.L.D to wash away the blood and grime of the fight, then hopped on his motorcycle to head back to Stark Tower.

On the way, he stopped by a low-end clothing store to pick up some other items that the boy might need (they still had no idea how long he would stay a kid and Tony couldn’t live in the same set of ill-fitting clothes forever). The only employee in the store didn’t seem recognize him at all, a thing for which Steve was eternally grateful. Right now, as tired as he was, the last thing he needed was the hassle of dealing with civilians.

At the tower, he punched in his access code to the penthouse and listened to the soft music that played wistfully through the speakers all the way up to the top. He let himself off, pulling out his phone when it buzzed in his pocket. Unsurprisingly, it was a message from Bruce.

I think I may have figured something out. Come by the lab when you get a chance. -BB

Oh, and bring Tony if you can.

Steve shot back an affirmative and put the phone away, hoping that the ‘something’ Bruce figured out was a cure. The whole situation was getting more complicated than Steve would have liked.

He deposited the bag of clothes by Tony’s bedroom door, then found Pepper in the kitchen twirling her fork in a pile of spaghetti. Tony sat next to her, gaze locked onto a tablet set up in front of him. It was tuned to a local news station, showing the footage from the battle that morning. Steve watched as the grainy figure of himself chucked his shield at a group of aliens, causing them to crumple to the ground in a spray of thick navy blood.

Steve wrinkled his nose. “That’s a bit violent for him, isn’t it?” He frowned, announcing his presence.

Pepper looked up, startled. “Oh, Steve. You’re back. Thank goodness.” That last part was muttered under her breath but, with his serum-enhanced hearing, Steve heard her all the same.

“I’m back.” He echoed, stepping further into the kitchen. Tony, oddly enough, spared him only a brief glance, before turning back to his tablet.

“He’s upset.” Pepper explained with a sigh. “He calmed down a bit after I let him watch, though.”

“I’m not upset.” Tony mumbled, eyes glued to the broadcast. On-screen Hawkeye peppered a Bardian with poison-tipped arrows and the poor guy howled and fell to his knees, clutching at his wounds. Steve felt a bit queasy. Without all the battle-fueled adrenaline pumping through his veins, the bloodshed seemed wholly unnecessary. Whatever happened to peaceful negotiation?

“I think that’s enough.” He said, reaching for Tony’s tablet in order to turn off the video. The boy protested, grabbing Steve’s hand and attempting to shove it away.

“Stop it!” He yelled, curling protectively over the electronic.

“Tony,” Steve went, a bit shocked by the boy’s uncooperative behavior. He had been fine yesterday.

Hadn't he?

Steve cleared his throat and started again in his ‘Captain America’ voice- the commanding one that even villains listened to. “Tony we need to go see Bruce. He's the one working on a cure for you.”

The boy just hunched further, burying his face in his knees. Dumbfounded, Steve turned to Pepper with a ‘what do I do know?’ look on his face.

Pepper’s mouth was set in a hard line, arms crossed. She was obviously a bit freaked out by the whole situation but, like always, she was taking it in stride. Letting her body relax, she reached over to place a hand on the kid’s back. “Tony, sweetheart, can you look at me?”

Still, nothing but the sound of Tony’s rugged breathing.

“Tony, we just want to help you.”

Nothing.

“Tony, I need you to tell me if something is wrong.”

Nothing.

“Tony, is something wrong?”

Bingo.

“EVERYTHING IS WRONG!” He shouted, whipping his head up to reveal red-rimmed eyes and tear-stained cheeks. His fingers were trembling where, pale and bloodless, they clutched the tablet. “I want to go home.”

“I know you do, honey. That’s what Dr. Banner is working on. He’s trying to get you home.” Pepper’s voice was calm but the boy was inconsolable, cries hitching as he struggled to breathe.

“I think something’s wrong.” Steve frowned, listening to the boy’s short gasps. It was like no matter what he did, he couldn’t get enough air.

“You think?” Pepper asked incredulous, eyebrows raised.

“No, I mean about his breathing. It’s wrong. I think he’s having an Asthma attack.” And even as he was saying the words, he was moving, picking the boy up and cradling to his chest. “Get the elevator.”

Pepper, pale-faced, did as he asked. Tony’s fingers tangled in Steve’s shirt, squeezing the fabric into tight little balls. “Can’t.” The boy rasped. “Breathe.”

“I know.” Steve said, willing the elevator to go faster. The seconds dragged on, punctuated by Tony’s wheezing.

They found Bruce in the lab. He took one look at the kid and shot up like a bullet, rushing across the room to frantically dig through the messy pile on his desk. “Inhaler.” The doctor explained, returning with the small tubular device.

“Take a deep breath.” He told the kid as he stuffed the thing in Tony’s mouth. It took a couple of puffs, but Steve soon felt Tony relax in his arms, the boy’s eyes fluttering shut as he panted.

“Jesus.” Went Pepper, voice trembling. “Jesus. I didn’t know he had asthma.”

Bruce shook his head. “He doesn’t.”

Steve lifted his head, brows furrowing. “Then why-?

“It’s the arc-reactor.” Bruce explained. “It takes up so much room in his chest, and subsequently his lungs don’t have enough room to inflate all the way. It’s not as much of a problem when he’s full-sized, but in that tiny body, the reactor is taking up too much space.” He paused to rub at his eyes. There were huge purple bags hanging underneath and Steve wondered if the man had slept at all last night. “I should have realized that.”

“It’s not your fault.” Steve said, squeezing the doctor’s shoulder. Bruce just shrugged, turning to lay a hand on Tony’s forehead.

“He’s clammy but I don’t think he has a fever. The worst should be over.”

“Thank you.” Steve said, and he meant it. He clutched Tony closer and to boy went willingly, pressing his face into Steve’s shoulder.

“Is this going to happen again?” Pepper asked, wringing her hand together. Her face was knotted up in worry and Steve was suddenly struck by the realization of how much this woman cared for Tony. He knew that they had been together, romantically, for awhile. Steve also knew that it hadn’t lasted very long. He knew that the breakup had been messy and that, afterwards, Tony locked himself in his workshop for two weeks. Then one day he was back, grinning that plastic grin and acting like everything was fine and dandy. But, Pepper obviously still cared deeply for the man and it left Steve wondering why they broke it off.

“It’s likely that it will.” Bruce admitted, breaking Steve out of his thoughts. The doctor handed Pepper the inhaler. “Make sure he keeps that on him at all times.”

She nodded, grasping the little machine in her fist like a lifeline. Her eyes kept darting over to the boy, looking very much like she wanted to touch him but wasn’t sure if she was allowed.

“Why don’t you take Tony upstairs to calm down while I talk to Bruce?” Steve suggested and Pepper smiled, gratefully.

“Okay.”

Tony however, had a different idea. “Wanna stay with you.” He mumbled into Steve’s shirt, rubbing the soft fabric between his fingers.

“I’ll be right up buddy. Just give me ten minutes with Bruce.” The soldier was expecting another fight, but Tony just acquiesced, letting Steve gently lower him to his feet. He quickly latched on to Pepper’s hand, looking exhausted and very, very small.

“Promise?” He said, gnawing on his bottom lip.

“I promise.”

-

“There’s this newly discovered subatomic particle.” Bruce began. He swiped a hand and a small circular hologram flickered to life, pulsing slightly like a little heartbeat. “It’s called a muon and they tend to travel faster than the speed of light. However, because they’re so unstable, muons tend to survive only about 2.2 microseconds. Are you following?”

Steve crinkled his nose and shrugged. “I think so. Although, I don’t get what it has to do with Tony.”

“I’m getting there.” Bruce said with a worried quirk of his lips. “Some people think that because of their great speed, muons hold the key to unlocking time travel.”

“Why’s that?” Steve cut in, struggling to understand. Bruce just shook his head.

“That’s the theory of relativity, but it’s not important right now. The only thing you need to understand is that scientists have been struggling to study muons because they don’t live long enough for us to analyze. However,” He paused to gesture at the Bardian time device, “This device seems to act as isolated containment for the muons.”

“So they stay alive?” Steve guessed.

“Correct.” Bruce nodded, clearly excited about his discovery.

“Oh. That’s… neat.”

“It is.” The doctor agreed. He pointed at the hologram. “This is a model of the type of muon that is trapped within the device. Instead of having a positive charge, these specific muons actually emit a negative charge and therefore they make time travel backwards instead of forwards. When Tony opened the device, the muons invaded his system and caused his own personal time stream to reverse. In order to turn him back, I’m going to have to synthesize some positive muons using a particle accelerator.”

“That's-”

“A lot, I know. I don’t expect you to fully understand.”

Steve just nodded, attempting to internalize the information. Surprisingly, he thought he got the gist- the muon particles seemed to work in a similar way as Hank Pym’s Pym Particles. However, there was something about the explanation that bothered him. He asked Bruce, “What about the arc-reactor? If the muon’s reversed Tony’s time line that means that he really is an eight year old right now. Tony didn’t have his arc reactor when he was a child.”

Bruce’s eyebrows shot up as if shocked that Steve had followed along with the explanation as well as he had. “Well, the muons only affect living matter. That’s why nothing else in the workshop was disturbed. Tony was alone when he opened the device and he was in self-contained room. If I had been there, I would've been de-aged too.” He turned back to the stacks of papers sprawled all around the time device and started raking through them.

Steve froze, a frightening thought suddenly coming to mind. “Bruce, what would happen if the device had been opened in the city?”

Bruce’s head jerked up from his notes, eyes going wide. “Then everyone in about a twenty mile radius would have been affected. You don’t think…?”

Steve nodded, curtly. “I believe we’ve finally discovered the Bardian’s original plan of attack.”

“Are you going to tell Fury?”

“I think I’m going to have to.”

-

Despite what he’d told Bruce, Steve decided to hold off on calling the Director. He doubted that the aliens would attack again soon and he wanted to see if they could solve the Tony problem before going to Fury.

Steve stepped into the living room and found the kid in question curled up on the couch, eyes trained on the TV. Back to the Future was playing and Steve let himself crack a small smile. It was one of the first movies Tony had shown him when he’d moved into the tower and it seemed incredibly fitting for the boy to be watching it now.

“Hi.” He said, dropping onto the sofa.

“Hi.” Tony mumbled back, glancing at Steve sideways from under his dark lashes. He seemed hesitant.

“Are you feeling better?”

“A bit.” The kid shuffled a little under his blanket, looking for all the world as if he wanted to scoot closer but wasn’t sure if he was allowed. Steve watched him struggle with the decision for a few more seconds before taking matters into his own hands. He reached out and pulled Tony in, tucking him under his arm. The boy sighed happily and burrowed into Steve’s side, indulging in his habit of rubbing Steve’s shirt between his fingers.

On some level Steve knew that this should be weird- this was Tony after all- but it felt right. He’d only known the boy for about a day but he was already irrationally attached. And luckily, it seems, so was Tony.

Pepper joined them shortly, a stack of paperwork in one hand and a Stark-Pad in the other. “One day without Tony and the company is already falling apart.” She sighed.

“Company?” The boy piped up, intrigued.

“Stark Industries.” Pepper said. “It’s yours.”

Steve would’ve expected the kid to be a little more excited about that idea, but Tony just wrinkled his nose and frowned. “Oh.”

“What’s wrong?” Steve prodded. Tony shrugged, glancing at the fat pile of paperwork.

“I guess I just thought that dad would find somebody else to run it, cause I told him I never wanted to be his legacy. I want to be an engineer instead!”

“You inherited it.” Pepper said, and Steve hoped that she knew that she was inching pretty close to slippery territory, what with the conversation last night about the death of Tony’s parents.

“Don’t worry though,” The woman continued with a smile, “I run it. You just come up with all the brilliant ideas.”

“Like designing weapons?” The boy asked, with a raised eyebrow.

“Well, we’re currently trying to steer the company in a different direction. Right now, we’re working on clean, efficient energy options.”

“That’s neat.” Went Tony, relaxing a tad. Steve, too, let out a breath, glad that Pepper had successfully navigated the conversation without triggering any sort of panic on the boy’s part.

The three of them finished watching the movie together and after Pepper excused herself to head to the office.

“You good, Steve?” She asked before she left, tapping her nails on the now filled out paperwork.

Steve nodded, watching Tony curiously tap at the buttons on the TV remote. “Yeah, we’re all good.”


End file.
